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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375602">A study in Red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93'>Toinette93</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Entity, some spaceships, Paris and Queen: a post-apocalyptic utopia AU [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't Examine This Too Closely, Gen, Hurt!Brian, Hurt!guitar, Not Beta Read, POV Red Special, POV Roger Taylor (Queen), Science Fiction, That AU version of '74, The Red Special really cares for Brian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:47:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375602</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Red. And I’m going to tell you the story of how I almost died.</p><p>---</p><p>They've come to trouble after a concert, and Brian has not played his guitar in more than a week. Said guitar is worried, and wants information. She also wants you to know about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May &amp; Red Special, John Deacon &amp; Brian May &amp; Freddie Mercury &amp; Roger Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Entity, some spaceships, Paris and Queen: a post-apocalyptic utopia AU [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A study in Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Earth, year 174 of the New Era</em>
</p><p>My name is Red. And I’m going to tell you the story of how I almost died. It wasn’t a long time ago. Although I’m not quite sure for how long my pick-ups were broken and I could not feel anything. I’m not even sure who repaired me. And it’s been too long. I haven’t been played in a while. Not by Brian anyhow. I’m bored. I hope he’ll be back soon. None of the others, Roger or John have touched me either. Hell I’d even take Freddie at this point. He can play me, even if he’s the worst of those four. I feel their presence in the room from time to time, although the three of them are never there together. I sometimes feel the vibrations from their own instruments but they never pick me up, and Brian has not come in the seven days I have been awake. When I’m unplugged I can’t hear what they are saying.</p><p>I just… I hope he’s alright. He made me, you see. Built me, gave me a name. I’m made of old bits and pieces. My vibrato still wants to go knitting sometimes. But I make the most beautiful sounds. People say I have a voice. I could almost talk. And I would not have the same voice without his playing.</p><p>I… I’ll just tell my story, alright. We were going to play a series of concerts, “on the edge of the dying world”, he thought, when he was rehearsing for it. Now I’m not sure how much I understand about this whole edge and end of the world business. But I now there is always a mix of fear and excitement in the air before concerts and these ones in particular, and I love the feeling.</p><p>Concerts are the best. The energy from the crowd, the loudness of the sound we produce, the bond between Brian and his friend, I enjoy every second of it. It is my chance to shine. Lately, they have gotten better and better. I think the music we are making is beautiful. And there are more and more people coming to listen to us. So we were going on tour.</p><p>I had been put in a casing, a very cosy one, I might say. I’ve heard rumours that some musicians throw their guitars around, and sometimes break them. But not me. I’m always well taken care of. The only thing is, I can’t perceive much when I’m encased. So I generally sleep, and I did that time too. I think we traveled for a while.</p><p>When we got there, it was mid-afternoon. I could feel the sun warming my body with oblique rays. I can tell what time it is from this. Brian has spent so much time talking about astronomy around me that I know a bit about it, let me tell you. But you’re sadly not here to be amazed by the wonders of zodiacal dust, now, are you? Well, pity.</p><p>So we got there, and Brian started to tune me. I could tell we were getting ready for the show. There was noise, and excitement everywhere around. I felt the vibrations even if I could not hear, then Brian plugged me in, and I could hear again. Oh, yeah we were getting ready for the show. Roger was carrying his drums to the stage. He was swearing a lot. Something about the stairs being “too damn bloody steep”, and about the fact that the others could “help instead of gawking around like idiots.” John mentioned something about having to talk to the concert’s organizers. I think he had planned to do that from the very beginning from the way he said it. I like John. He’s devious and smart. Then Freddie chirped in:</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, darling, I need to put on my costume, you know how tight it is, it’s going to take forever.”</p><p>“Bloody hell! Brian, I’m sure you have a wonderful excuse to not help me as well?”</p><p>“Err, what? Oh, no, I’ll be here in a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>He finished tuning me then put me delicately on the floor and went to help Roger. I heard the clonks of the drums, and the grunts of the men. Then they started warming up their voices. Freddie, Roger and Brian did. John doesn’t sing. I don’t know why. I like his voice when he speaks. It is pleasingly itchy, a bit like the intro to keep yourself alive. Oh I like that song, too. I was excited about playing it tonight. I feel powerful when we do it, it seems to wake people up and then they move around, and applaud.</p><p> </p><p>The people started to arrive. There was a buzz in the room, people where waiting for something. Then we got onstage. There were lights and smoke, I heard people think. I was held securely, straps on, in Brian’s hand, when he run across stage, and we started to sing. I’m not really able to think much when we play like that. I have to be in the moment, to do everything well. The electricity is cursing through me and I make sound, it resonates, has reverbs, and I fell people’s emotions around me.</p><p> </p><p>It was a great show. I did not even lose a string this time. And when it ended, the cheer was enormous. I could feel sweat on my strings, and the exhaustion in Brian’s body, but also how happy he was, and I was too, for me and for him, for all of them, and for the audience.</p><p> </p><p>“I think we were quite good, weren’t we?” I heard Brian say, with some surprise in his voice as they left the stage.</p><p> </p><p>I did not hear the answer, as I was plugged off, but I still felt the vibe, and I knew they were planning to go celebrate. But John said something, I felt it in Brian’s mind, about bad reports about the Entity. That they might have to go earlier than they thought they would. The mood changed, suddenly. There was tension in the air, and not the kind before a show. The really scary kind. I was put hastily in my case, and even thus I could feel we were running. I had never been carried with such haste, so little care. I’m not sure how they carried Roger’s drums fast enough. But they’re here now. So they survived somehow.</p><p> </p><p>I think the casing must have been closed wrong, because I definitely felt more than I should have. I could here the neighing of horses as we got there. We were travelling by cart. Freddie took me, and put me on the back side of the cart. After a while, we started moving. I could feel Freddie and Brian’s presence next to me. John and Roger must have been on the front. Brian got me out of my case, checked me for damage. At that point, I was fine. He started playing me, absentmindedly. I could feel the tension in the air. And with the resonance of his playing, and the emotional height around, I could make out some of what they were saying, even if I was not always quite sure who was speaking.</p><p> </p><p>“How long do we have?”</p><p>“I’m not sure, but it should be alright.”</p><p>“Oh, you don’t know, Freddie, we can’t, we just have to get out of there as fast as we can.”</p><p>“Do you know if the audience got out ok?”</p><p>“They left before us. They will be fine.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“If my calculations are correct, we should make it out of there, if barely.”</p><p>“Well, that’s counting without any Edge-bandits attacking us.”</p><p>“Always the optimist, aren’t you Roger.”</p><p>“Oh dear, there always is a possibility, but it is not a big one. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Errm, folks, I think...”</p><p> </p><p>That last one was Brian speaking. And then things went to hell, quickly. Brian grabbed me, I think I saw John grab his bass too and then the cart went upside down and we tumbled onto the floor. I was not hurt, and Brian got back up immediately. I don’t think he was in any pain at that point. I could feel his thoughts at that moment. I sometimes do when he’s going through extreme emotions. He was scared.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>T</em>
  <em>hey are wearing complete protection suits. Are they humans? A creature of the Entity. Do these even exist? Not the moment for philosophical theories, Brian, they are holding something that looks an awful lot like a gun in their hands. It’s only </em>
  <em>one</em>
  <em> person, sure but they’re armed, probably trained, and you’re just one nerdy musician. What do they want? I hope they won’t take our instruments. I can’t give them Red. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He did not want to give me to the awful person who was threatening him. I was happy he felt that way, but I was also scared. I’d rather be the one to die than him. He could build another guitar, even if it would not be me. I could not build another Brian. I’m not sure anyone could. I’m not even sure he’s alive right now. I think he is though. I would know. For sure, I would know, and the others they would tell me. I could feel it in them if they didn’t. I can’t think about that right now. I’m sure he’ll be fine.</p><p> </p><p>I’m not entirely sure what happened next. John got close enough that I could hear his voice reverberating through me and said:</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure they want something. Their only goal might be to kill us.”</p><p> </p><p>Then he moved back.</p><p> </p><p>Roger must have said something, he felt angry. I think Freddie urged him to be more cautious. And then I felt Brian panicking. I don’t know what got him to panic. There was a vibration all around us, and something about the air changed. I got propped upwards, in front of Brian’s face and the other’s too. Then there was a shock and I felt pain. Brian’s as well as my own. There was a warm liquid falling on me. Blood I thought. But I don’t bleed, I’m made of wood. Oh, his blood, then. Right. I was not quite conscious form then on. My pick-ups had been damaged and I could not quite perceive things as well as usual.</p><p> </p><p>I think Freddie punched someone in the face. And then Roger and John picked Brian up, Freddie picked me up, they put the cart back on, probably, and we ran off. I don’t know for sure how we got out of there. I had lost consciousness by then.</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Roger’s there. He’s walking towards me. And, it seems like he’s going to play me. Finally, I’ve felt so lonely. He’s alone in the studio. He plugs me in, and starts playing a little, bit, nice and slow. He’s not bad, really, even if he’s not Brian. I wail approvingly. He’s not really playing anything particular, just getting stress out I think.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s going to be alright you know.” He says. “We weren’t sure for a while, but he is.”</p><p> </p><p>I feel his relief in the way he plays and I share it although it is mixed with retrospective fear. I have to know what happened. I get all my energy to sound as good as I can so that he will keep on playing, and he does. I want him to remember, to give me the information I need. I try and sound softer, mellower, to get him to do just that.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad we managed to patch you back together, Brian would have been livid if you’d been irreparable. You took part of the blow, that would have gone to his face, probably saved his life.”</p><p> </p><p>What am I doing, talking to a bloody guitar, thinks the drummer. But it has been a hard couple of weeks. And the Fireplace… almost seems alive sometimes. He keeps on strumming lightly. It was a good concert for sure. Sure, Brian indulged a bit on the length of the solo, but given that they’re not sure when he’s going to be able to play again, Roger’s not going to hold a grudge. The public seemed to enjoy it, anyhow. Then they had to leave in the middle of post-show euphoria.</p><p> </p><p>They’d always known those concerts were dangerous. But this time, shit. They’d rushed as fast as they could, urging the horses to go on faster and faster, despite their tiredness, against the approach of the deadly cloud.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure what it was that attacked them but… His temper could have killed them all, he had not seen the weapon and gotten ready to push over whatever it was. And then, oh lord, Brian had jumped in and Freddie had punched it sideways, and there had been a weird surprised noise, and blood, and a broken guitar. That was not broken anymore, now, but still.</p><p> </p><p>He’d seen tall, lanky Brian topple to the ground, uncoordinated, and he had thought that his friend looked more graceful when drunk. He’s not quite sure what happened next. They’d gotten the cart back up. He had pushed it, he thought. Brian had managed to get on with some help. John had driven. Freddie had picked up their attacker’s blade and urged them on. Freddie with a weapon had been such a surreal sight.</p><p> </p><p>One deep slash across the left arm. Come on, keep applying pressure, it’s gotta stop bleeding at some point. It’s not that deep. But it won’t stop. Press harder, Roger, come on, put those drumming muscle to good use.</p><p> </p><p>“It just won’t stop bleeding!”</p><p>“Keep pressing” said John</p><p> </p><p>There it’s slowing. It’s not that deep, it should not have taken that long to stop. He should be alert, in pain, tired, but alert and he isn’t. What’s going on?</p><p> </p><p>Fucking weapon had been poisoned. Had Freddie not had the reflex to take it for protection… And then to give it to the doctors at the hospital… But he had. John had manage to coax the horses into going faster, with very few breaks. He’d tried to keep his friend’s body from shutting down. He does not want to see the white of Brian’s eyes again. And Freddie had basically talked Brian into staying alive. There had been a few moments when… but they’d gotten help in time.</p><p> </p><p>Oh, even then, the past few weeks have not been fun. He’s not exactly sure when’s the last time he slept more than an hour on a chair. He’s been dazed at first, and that was maybe best. Because then, worry and anger have fought a large-scale battle in there, and he’s exhausted. It has taken a whole week before they were entirely sure he’d make it. A few more days before he was fully conscious again. He’s going to get out in a few days now, but he looked so bloody frail. Roger could not quite wait to get into an argument over music or politics or anything really with him again. Cause he’d been careful, and considerate for the past few weeks, and it was needed, but it had felt so wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Freddie had held out the best, appearing cheery, and keeping everyone else healthy, always optimistic and ready to help. Roger admired that about his friend, but he had seen the blood on the hidden teeth from worrying on the lips. John… John had repaired the Red Special. And then built a new amp for it. Now he was busy testing new sound effect. That, annoyed him. A bit. Even if he understood people processed stuff differently. And playing the Special he had to admit the bass player had done one hell of a good job with that guitar. He played a few more chords.</p><p> </p><p>Did that instrument just sound pleased? Thought Roger. And he stopped playing. That thought made absolutely no sense, he chided himself. Well, he’d spend enough time fiddling with the Special. He was just supposed to test it before Brian got back after all. He put the guitar back in its place and left the room.</p>
<hr/><p>I’m getting a new amp! John makes the best amps. I’m so excited. I’m going to make new beautiful sounds. And Brian is coming back. He’s alright. I don’t like the sound of “frail” though. He needs to be strong enough to carry me around. And he was not very big before. I’ll have to take care of that. I’ll start sounding off pitch if he tires. That way, he’ll stop and get a break, and the others will be happy too. I hope they will be more careful from now on. I wish I could do something to stop them going near that Entity ever again, whatever that is. It’s not a nice thing. But there’s only so much I can do. I’m only a guitar after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello people !<br/>Hope you enjoyed this weird little thing. I'm using this AU to experiment a bit, hope it's interesting to you guys. Don't hesitate to comment and keep yourselves alive.<br/>Take care</p></blockquote></div></div>
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